


So quiet but I finally wake up

by aewriting



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, alex manes appreciation week 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 02:09:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18714370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aewriting/pseuds/aewriting
Summary: Through the years, Alex's dreams have cost him his peace of mind.Until they don't.





	So quiet but I finally wake up

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of Alex Manes Appreciation Week, 2019. Prompt 1: "daydreaming with a broken heart."
> 
> This is more like night dreaming with a broken heart. Title is from Fastball's "Out Of My Head" (1998 - just made the Crashdown jukebox)

**15**.

_Alex has just finished his final song. He’s been so nervous, and so focused on getting the lyrics right, the chords correct, that he hasn’t even looked at the crowd. It’s open mic night at Bean Me Up, and he’s finally worked up the courage to play a short set. It’s a mixed crowd – some older patrons mingling with pierced, tattooed 20-somethings. And there, off to the side, are Maria and Liz. Liz’s fingers are in her mouth, letting out a loud whistle of approval, while Maria’s hands are raised above her head, clapping wildly. Alex can’t help but grin as he takes in their enthusiasm. He nods his head in thanks to the crowd and walks off the makeshift stage, his guitar tucked under his arm. The next act is going up on stage as Alex looks around for his guitar case, nearly running smackdab into a warm, solid mass._

_“Kyle?”_

_“Hey Alex,” Kyle says, a smile on his face. “That was incredible!”_

_“Yeah?” Alex asks shyly._

_Kyle’s arm is on his shoulder. “I had no idea you could play like that!”_

_“I’ve been practicing. It’s something I like to do.”_

_“What else do you like, Alex?” Kyle’s eyes are looking straight at his. It’s different than how Kyle normally looks at Alex, has ALWAYS looked at Alex, and he isn’t quite sure what to feel. Kyle steps closer, crowding Alex against the wall. Alex’s hand is suddenly on his chest, and he can feel the muscle beneath the thin t-shirt._

_And then, holy shit, Kyle is leaning down, man on a mission, pressing his lips into Alex’s and –_

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

Alex’s eyes fly open as he hastily takes in his surroundings. Morning. His bedroom. His blaring alarm clock.

And his very obvious hard-on, dammit.

 

**18**.

“Manes? MANES!”

Alex gasps awake, disoriented at first. Pickowski’s face is inches away from his, and his hand is grabbing onto Alex’s arm. On instinct, Alex draws back, wrenches his arm out of Pickowski’s grasp almost violently. The guy’s always been perfectly nice to Alex, but Alex really doesn’t trust anyone here at Basic yet, not fully.

Pickowski gets the hint, holds his hands up as if surrendering. “Hey man, sorry, sorry, it’s just, you were screaming, and I didn’t want you to wake up the whole damn barracks.”

Alex allows himself to relax a bit. He rakes a hand through his hair and meets Pickowski’s gaze. “I was screaming?”

“Yeah, man, you must have been having another nightmare or something.”

“Another?”

Pickowski looks uncomfortable. “Yeah, um… this isn’t the first night I’ve heard you. I mean, I’m right next to you, but still. Everything okay?”

“Fine,” Alex says tightly. “Sorry for waking you.”

Pickowski nods, doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then… “Who’s Michael?”

Shit.

“It’s just, it sounds like you’re saying ‘Michael’ over and over again, sometimes like you’re scared, and sometimes like, um…”

Alex is silent.

Maybe Pickowski senses the awkwardness, or maybe he’s just tired. “You know what, forget it.” He looks at Alex, hints of concern and curiosity mingling on his features. “I hope you get some sleep, okay?”

“Thanks,” Alex says quietly.

 

**26**.

_He’s running._

_It’s not jogging. It’s not a controlled gym class trot, or a slog-along-till-you-puke kind of exercise from training._

_No, this is an all-out, run for your life and don’t dare look behind you kind of run._

_Alex is in his civvies, arms pumping, heart thumping, trying frantically to outrun the worst threat he’s ever known._

_His father._

_Jesse Manes is behind him, walking along steadily yet somehow nearly overtaking him, despite Alex’s most desperate efforts._

_He’s being chased through downtown Roswell, the main drag, past the Crashdown and the Sheriff’s department, but there’s no one else there. No cars, no bystanders. And somehow, the damn town never ends. No matter how many times he full-out sprints past the Crashdown, he always ends up passing it again._

_There’s no end, no beginning, and no escaping._

_And his father’s hot on his heels._

_Until Alex somehow takes off. Is this what he’s been trying to do all along? Soar into the air, up above this shit town. He didn’t even know it was possible, that he could do this._

_Relief and elation course through him, and he finally chances a glimpse down at his father back on the ground, growing smaller and smaller until…_

_Shit, until Jesse removes his pistol, takes aim, and fires._

Alex wakes with a start, cursing the codeine and the rest of the drug cocktail that keeps him placated and hazy. Here in this hospital bed, there’s no soaring, no running.

Certainly not with only one leg.

And definitely not with the knowledge that he’ll be transferred back to Roswell within the month.

 

**28**.

Alex wakes up on the floor, in pain.

He’s not the only thing out of place. His alarm clock is on the floor with him, and the bedside lamp is on its side on the nightstand. Alex has pulled sheets and blankets down onto him, and while his pillow has come along for the ride, it hasn’t done anything to cushion his fall.

He can tell that he was dreaming about the attack again, that this was one of those PTSD nightmares that he gets. He begins the process of untangling himself from his sheets. Getting back up is such a bitch. Alex manages to get on both of his knees, wincing at the sudden pressure. Holding onto the bed frame with both hands, Alex extends his left leg into a half-kneel, then carefully raises himself up to standing. Not bothering with the clock, he sinks back into bed.

It’s _this._ Exactly this scenario that makes him nervous about spending the night with Michael, with _anybody._ He’s heard of this happening with other military buddies, too, and apparently, it’s not easy to anticipate or treat. Certain medications can help. Alcohol makes it worse. One guy he knows ended up clocking his wife and breaking her nose by accident. Alex involuntarily shudders. He’d hate doing something like that to Guerin.

But what he’d _really_ hate would be seeing the pity in Guerin’s eyes.

 

**29**.

_Alex is pristine, his uniform pressed, his hair slicked into place._

_And Michael, across from him, looks like a goddamned wild animal._

_He really does. He’s naked, and his hair is unevenly shorn. There are electrodes on his chest. He’s in, for all intents and purposes, a cage, and his teeth are bared. He looks feral, stalking the length of his small glass cell and glaring at Alex._

_“Turn on audio, Captain?” asks Alex’s assistant, and Alex nods._

_Michael’s voice is louder than expected. “ – your fucking fault, Alex!”_

_“Calm him down,” Alex hears himself order._

_“Fuck!” Michael cries, groaning in pain on the ground. “Fuck you, Alex! Wish I’d never seen your fucking face!”_

_“Are they all this irritable?” asks the assistant, taking notes._

_“The other two new ones aren’t nearly as hostile,” Alex comments, his tone almost bored._

_“NO!” screams Michael, as he gets hit with another charge. “You’ve turned into your goddamn father! Is this what you wanted? Is this what you were after all along?”_

_“He’s delusional,” mutters Alex’s assistant._

_“Mmm,” says Alex noncommittally._

_“Think for yourself, Alex!” Michael screams at him._

_Alex turns and walks away._

_“You always walk away!”_

Alex’s eyes fly open. He’s panting and sweating. Jesus Christ, these fucking nightmares! As soon as he’s awake he knows they’re not real, can’t be real, but in the thick of it, it’s like he’s really there, like he’s his _father_.

He’s not his father, won’t be his father.

But… who WILL he be?

 

**Future.**

_Alex is facedown on the bed. The sheets are white, and they smell clean, but that’s not what’s got Alex’s attention._

_“Fuck,” he grunts as Michael thrusts into him. He’s going to feel this tomorrow._

_He turns his head to the side, and Michael’s face is suddenly there, warm against his neck, panting into his ear. “That’s it,” Michael whispers, “God, you feel so good…”_

_Michael tightens his grip on Alex’s wrists, and Alex notices, abruptly, the now-smooth skin of Michael’s left hand, complete with a simple silver band. Disbelieving, Alex stretches out his hand, too, as much as he can without breaking Michael’s hold, taking in the matching band on his own ring finger. Michael’s movements intensify and build until –_

Michael is shaking him awake. “Alex? Alex? You okay?

Alex groans.

“You were moving around, making some weird noises…”

Alex rubs at his eyes with his hands, then cocks an eyebrow at Michael. “Ha, I bet I was.”

Michael’s eyebrows fly up in response. “Oh shit, were you having a sex dream?”

Alex can’t stop the smile that spreads across his face.

“Was it me? Was I in it?”

“Yeah, it was you,” Alex chuckles, and Michael rolls fully up against him.

“You’re hard,” he says, his voice suddenly raspier than usual as he takes Alex in his hand. “What were we doing?”

Alex bites his lip. “You were in me.”

“Yeah?” Michael says, and Alex’s nightstand drawer opens of its own accord. Alex’s eyes track the lube as it makes its way from the drawer to Michael’s outstretched arm. Michael begins to prepare them both as he continues with his questions.

“Were you on top? Underneath?”

“You were holding me down, pressing me into the goddamn mattress.”

Michael flips Alex over, settles his weight on top of him, but doesn’t try to enter him yet. He runs his hand from Alex’s hip up to the back of his neck, before gripping his hair and lightly jerking his head back and to the side.

“Like this?” he asks, dragging his lips from Alex’s lips up to the shell of his ear.

Alex shudders. “Hands were on my wrists,” he says, and Michael releases Alex’s hair. He grips one wrist tightly as his other hand continues opening Alex up. Alex debates sharing the next detail. “We… we were…”

“What?”

“We had rings on.”

Michael pushes in, makes a satisfied sound. “Rings… like we were married?”

“Mmm hmm,” Alex grunts, closing his eyes and trying to relax his body. He feels Michael grip his other wrist and push him down more heavily into the bed.

“Well fuck,” Michael whispers. “Wouldn’t mind locking your ass down, Manes.”

Alex chuckles, “That good, huh?”

“The best,” Michael says as he begins to find a rhythm. “Tell me, who’s better, me or dream me?”

“You,” gasps Alex with no hesitation. “ _Real_ you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
